


i can still see you with my eyes closed

by soulas



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, a pseudo hint at steven/shane, everything is very vague and noncommittal, faint description of blowjobs and tense office affairs, implied one-sided standrew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 16:08:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17369090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulas/pseuds/soulas
Summary: Tipsy hide n seek, Ryan had said. At 3 am. In the office.Great.





	i can still see you with my eyes closed

**Author's Note:**

> eyy where my shaven/limadej ppl at

This problem, like most problems in his life, can be blamed on Ryan. 

Ryan’s the one who gets shit-faced at work, turning into a loud, suggestible drunk. Shane is not drunk, but he is just tipsy enough to reluctantly agree to the inane game of hide and seek that Ryan, with a lot of egging on from Sara, sets up.   


( _This is millennial culture_ , Shane thinks in his trademarked Buzzfeed “Ten Things to Attract Viral Hits!” part of his brain that is never quite turned off. A bunch of drunk adults playing hide and seek in their office building? With an app on their phones that connects them to one another and makes the game even more complicated? Of fucking course.)

To be fair, it’s around 3 in the morning, which means that their colleagues are either at home or passed out on their desks with cold cups of ramen noodles by them, so they’re not really bothering anyone by being irritatingly juvenile.

At least. That’s what he thinks.

He finds an old storage room in the back of the west wing and securely stations himself in a flimsy, poorly assembled cabinet that doesn’t really need the stamp of “Ikea” across its back to indicate its brand.

It’s dark in the room and the alcohol has made him all warm and fuzzy. He checks his phone and no one on his team is nearby yet. He’s starting to get groggy, and he decides that if no one finds him in the next fifteen minutes, he’s going home to sleep off a long week’s worth of work.

That’s not what happens. About seven minutes in, he hears scuffling outside the door and then it bangs open. Pale artificial light shafts in through the slats in the cabinet door and Shane squints to see who it is. There’s enough light to make out one, two people, but they’re turned away from him so that he can’t see their faces.

He checks his phone again, but there’s no signal that anyone playing the game is close to him, so this must be someone else.

About two seconds after he realizes this fact, he also realizes that these two people aren’t just here to take a break from work or look for extra office supplies. Nope. If the sound of their heavy breathing and quiet cursing is anything to go by, it’s pretty clear that they have one purpose in mind.

_Are you fucking kidding me_ , Shane thinks to himself, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to not listen in. He thinks there are a lot of unsavory things about him, but non-consensual voyeur is not a label he is particularly eager to adopt.

The couple aren’t making it easy though.

Someone lets out a frankly open groan and he hears the two shifting in the dark.

“Andrew,” a hoarse voice whimpers. “ _Please_.”

Shane’s eyes fly open. He knows that voice. He is abundantly familiar with its constant chirping in his ear all day, never this low and needy, but he recognizes it all the same. 

It’s Steven and Andrew. 

_Steven and Andrew._

Oh my god.

_Ryan owes me so much money,_ he thinks gleefully. Oh, this is such high quality office gossip. This is the creme of the crop, the  _je ne sais quoi_ of office talk. Although, it comes at a pretty high cost. The sound of table legs screeching against the floor grates against his ears.

A deep chuckle, and another voice says, “Steady there, Steven. I’m not in any rush.”

A long rectangle of light from the narrow window in the door falls on the two, illuminating them somewhat in the darkness. Enough so that you can see Andrew leaning against the table, propping himself up with his elbows, his head tilted back, his jeans shoved down. Steven reaching up from where he’s on his knees in front of Andrew, opening his mouth to—

Shane quickly closes his eyes again and tries to think about things like giant tractors emitting clouds of bitter smoke. Puppies drowning. Nails on a chalkboard.  _Anything_ , _Jesus Christ._

He still has to hear everything and fucking hell. He’s seen actual porn that’s sounded less enthusiastic than this. Not that he’s trying to listen in or anything.  _Goddamn Ryan Bergara and his dumbass ideas,_ he curses silently.

Eventually, everything gets quiet and the breathing evens out, and then Andrew says in a low voice, “Hey, you okay?”

There’s some shuffling. “I'm fine,” Steven says. “Here, let me…”

Shane still has his eyes closed, but he can hear something that sounds like tenderness when Steven speaks. 

“Leave that,” Andrew says shortly. “Let’s go. It’s late.”

Steven doesn’t reply and finally,  _mercifully_ , they walk out of the room. 

Shane lets out a little sigh of relief and pushes his way out of the cabinet. His brain is a little fried and he has to just stand for a moment, dazed. He takes a breath and goes to tell his stupid friends that he’s done with this game. 

He finds Ryan zigzagging down the entrance hallway, squinting at his phone and making gentle clucking noises. 

_What the fuck_ , Shane thinks. All of a sudden he feels exhausted.

“Shane! Where were you?” Ryan hiccups and frowns. “Your lil…tracker thing was unfunctional. Non functional-er. Not functioning.”

Shane looks at his phone and sure enough, it’s dead. 

“I’m going home,” he says. 

Ryan starts to say something else, but Shane’s already walking towards the exit, his car, and an ice cold shower. 

On the drive home, he keeps fidgeting in his seat. The seat belt strap is digging into his shoulder; his sweater is too warm for the weather; the amount of potholes seem to double. It's almost time for him to drive back to work again, and the last thing he wants to do is put on a nice face and act like he didn't catch two of his coworkers desperately rutting in a backroom closet like a couple of teenagers at prom. The amusement of the whole situation and the satisfaction of owning the knowledge to such prized information has worn off. He knew in his gut that he wasn't going to rat on the two; he's a skeptic, not an asshole (well, most of the time). But all that leaves him with is an uncomfortable heat in his cheeks and an idea of how Steven Lim and sex combine.

As soon as he arrives at his apartment, he makes a beeline to his fridge. He cracks open a cold beer and chugs half the thing. He hesitates before grabbing the whole pack to bring into his bedroom. If the universe is determined to make him completely shameless, then at least he can be smashing drunk for this part.

When he arrives at the office the next day, Steven’s already spinning in his chair, fully energized as always.

“Good morning!” he says when he sees Shane. He’s smiling widely and Shane tears his gaze away from Steven’s mouth. (Is it always that red?)

“Yeah, morning,” he mutters and slides into his chair, shoving headphones over his ears so that he has an excuse to not talk to Steven. Especially not when he knows  _exactly_  why Steven’s voice sounds all raspy and scratched up like that.

_Goddammit_.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://sovnly.tumblr.com/)


End file.
